1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave

9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum